MORE BLOOMING CAMELLIAS

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I’m like a mother with a child.

Watching each bloom appear.

I count the blossoms

Like a child’s first steps.

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Then in the deepest, darkest night

the wind came.

Then rain.

They rattled and raged

at the windows.

My camellias

Oh my poor darlings.

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Early morning.

I crept out in my polka dot pajamas.

Just one.

The wind took just one.

You’re growing.

I count your blossoms in my sleep.

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